Oswald Bastable and Others

E. Nesbit

Description

“Oswald Bastable and Others” is a trilogy of children's novels by Edith Nesbit (1858 – 1924), including “The Story of the Treasure Seekers” (1899), “The Wouldbegoods” (1901), and “The New Treasure Seekers” (1904). Nesbit was a prolific and popular writer of children's literature, publishing more than 60 such books under the name E. Nesbit. She was also a political activist and co-founded the Fabian Society, which had a significant influence on the Labour Party and British politics in general. This charming children's trilogy would make for perfect bedtime reading and constitutes a must-have for fans and collectors of Nesbit's wonderful work. Other notable works by this author include: “The Prophet's Mantle” (1885), “Something Wrong” (1886), and “The Marden Mystery” (1896). Many vintage books such as this are becoming increasingly scarce and expensive. It is with this in mind that we are republishing this volume now in an affordable, modern, high-quality edition complete with a specially-commissioned new biography of the author.

Sujets

• Young Adult Fiction
• Adventure
• Action

Informations

• Publié par: Read Books Ltd.
• Date de parution: 17 juin 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528787529
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

OSWALD BASTABLE
AND OTHERS
By
E. NESBIT
Illustrated by
CHARLES E. BROCK
And
H. R. MILLAR

First published in 1905


This edition published by Read Books Ltd. Copyright © 2019 Read Books Ltd. This book is copyright and may not be
reproduced or copied in any way without
the express permission of the publisher in writing
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library


To My Dear Niece, Anthonia Nesbit


Contents
E. Nesbit
OSWALD BASTABLE
AN OBJECT OF VALU E AND VIRTUE
THE RUNAWAYS
THE ARSENICATORS
THE ENCHAN CERIED HOUSE
OTHERS
MOLLY, THE MEASLES, AND THE MISSING WILL
BILLY AND WILLIAM
A HISTORICAL TALE F OR THE YOUNG
THE TWO PENNY SPELL
SHOWING OFF; OR, THE LOOKI NG-GLASS BOY
THE RING AND THE LAMP
THE CHARMED LIFE; OR, THE PRINCESS AND THE LIFT-MAN
BI LLY THE KING
THE PRINCESS AND THE CAT
THE WHITE HORSE
SIR CHRISTOPHER COCKLESHELL
MUSCADEL


Illustrations
"'Don't break down the door! The villains may return any moment and de stroy you."'
"'Here is your prize," s aid Oswald.'
"'Come into the kitchen," said Oswald, "you can drip there quite co mfortably."'
'We consented to carry the unfortunate bed-w oman to it.'
A little person in a large white cap.'
Molly had a splendid ride behind the groom.'
The bicycle started, Billy in the saddle and Harold o n the step.'
"'And what can we do for you to- day, Miss?"'
The alligator very near ly had him.'
"'Your servant, Miss. Do I understand that you order me to mend this?"'
The little girl had slapped Fina and taken the p agoda away.'
"'We'll see if you are going to begin a-ordering of me about."'
"'Come by post, your Lordship," said t he footman.'
"'Excuse my hair, Sire ," he said.'
"'Speak to the dragon as soon as it arrives."'
'The two skated into each ot her's arms.'
"'Take that," cried he, aiming an apple at the old man's head.'
In the drawer was just one jewelled ring. It lay on a wr itten page.'
A black-winged monster, with hundreds and hundre ds of eyes.'
"On the table stood the dazzling figure of a real full-size d princess."
'A blowzy, frowzy dairymaid.'
"'You've got a face as long as a fiddle."'


E. Nesbit
Edith Nesbit was born in Kennington, Surrey in 1858. Her family moved around constantly during her youth, living variously in Brighton, Buckinghamshire, France, Spain and Germany, before settling for three years in Halstead in north-west Kent, a location which later inspired her well-known novel, The Railway Children. In 1880, Nesbit married Hubert Bland, and her writing talents – which had been in evidence during her teens – were quickly needed to bring in e xtra money.
Over the course of her life, Nesbit would go on to publish approximately 40 books for children, including novels, collections of stories and picture books. Among her best-known works are The Story of the Treasure Seekers (1898), The Wouldbegoods (1899) and The Railway Children (1906). Nesbit is regarded by many critics as the first truly 'modern' children's writer, in that she replaced the fantastical worlds utilised by authors such as Lewis Carroll with real-life settings marked by the occasional intrusion of magic. In this, Nesbit is seen as a precursor to writers such as J. K. Rowling and C. S. Lewis. Nesbit was also a lifelong socialist; in 1884 she was among the founding members of the influential Fabian Society. For much of her adult life she was an active lecturer and prolific writer on socialism.
Having suffered from lung cancer for some years, Nesbit died in 1924 at New Romney, Ke nt, aged 65.


OSWALD BASTABLE





"'Don't break dow n the door! The villains may return any moment and de stroy you."'


A N OBJECT OF VALUE AND VIRTUE
This happened a very little time after we left our humble home in Lewisham, and went to live at the Blackheath house of our Indian uncle, which was replete with every modern convenience, and had a big garden and a great many greenhouses. We had had a lot of jolly Christmas presents, and one of them was Dicky's from father, and it was a printing-press. Not one of the eighteenpenny kind that never come off, but a real tip-topper, that you could have printed a whole newspaper out of if you could have been clever enough to make up all the stuff there is in newspapers. I don't know how people can do it. It's all about different things, but it is all just the same too. But the author is sorry to find he is not telling things from the beginning, as he has been taught. The printing-press really doesn't come into the story till quite a long way on. So it is no use your wondering what it was that we did print with the printing-press. It was not a newspaper, anyway, and it wasn't my young brother's poetry, though he and the girls did do an awful lot of that. It was something much more far-reaching, as you will see if you wait.
There wasn't any skating those holidays, because it was what they call nice open weather. That means it was simply muggy, and you could play out of doors without grown-ups fussing about your overcoat, or bringing you to open shame in the streets with knitted comforters, except, of course, the poet Noël, who is young, and equal to having bronchitis if he only looks at a pair of wet boots. But the girls were indoors a good deal, trying to make things for a bazaar which the people our housekeeper's elder sister lives with were having in the country for the benefit of a poor iron church that was in difficulties. And Noël and H. O. were with them, putting sweets in bags for the bazaar's lucky-tub. So Dicky and I were out alone together. But we were not angry with the others for their stuffy way of spending a day. Two is not a good number, though, for any game except fives; and the man who ordered the vineries and pineries, and butlers' pantries and things, never had the sense to tell the builders to make a fives court. Some people never think of the simplest things. So we had been playing catch with a fives ball. It was Dicky's ball, and Oswald said:
'I bet you can't hit it over the house.'
'What do you bet?' said Dicky.
And Osw ald replied:
'Anything you like. You couldn't do it, anyhow.'
Dicky said:
'Miss Blake says betting is wicked; but I don't believe it is, if you don't bet money.'
Oswald reminded him how in 'Miss Edgeworth' even that wretched little Rosamond, who is never allowed to do anything she wants to, even lose her own needles, makes a bet with her brother, and none of the grown-ups turn a hair.
'But I don't want to bet,' he said. 'I know you c an't do it.'
'I'll bet you my fives ball I do,' Dicky rejoindered.
'Done! I'll bet you that threepenny ball of string and the cobbler's wax you were bothering about yesterday.'
So Dicky said 'Done!' and then he went and got a tennis racket—when I meant with his hands—and the ball soared up to the top of the house and faded away. But when we went round to look for it we couldn't find it anywhere. So he said it had gone over and he had won. And Oswald thought it had not gone over, but stayed on the roof, and he hadn't. And they could not agree about it, though they talked of nothing else ti ll tea time.
It was a few days after that that the big greenhouse began to leak, and something was said at brekker about had any of us been throwing stones. But it happened that we had not. Only after brek Oswald sa id to Dicky:
'What price fives balls for knocking holes in g reenhouses?'
'Then you own it went over the house, and I won my bet. Hand over!' Dic ky remarked.
But Oswald did not see this, because it wasn't proved it was the fives ball. It was on ly his idea.
Then it rained for two or three days, and the greenhouse leaked much more than just a fives ball, and the grown-ups said the man who put it up had scamped the job, and they sent for him to put it right. And when he was ready he came, and men came with ladders and putty and glass, and a thing to cut it with a real diamond in it that he let us have to look at. It was fine that day, and Dicky and H. O. and I were out most of the time talking to the men. I think the men who come to do things to houses are so interesting to talk to; they seem to know much more about the things that really matter than gentlemen do. I shall try to be like them when I grow up, and not always talk about politics and the way the army is going to the dogs.
The men were very jolly, and let us go up the ladder and look at the top of the greenhouse. Not H. O., of course, because he is very young indeed, and wears socks. When they had gone to dinner, H. O. went in to see if some pies were done that he had made out of a bit of putty the man gave him. He had put the pies in the oven when the cook wasn't looking. I think something must have been done to him, for he did not return.
So Dicky and I were left. Dicky said:
'If I could get the ladder round to the roof of the stovehouse I believe I should find my fives ball in the gutter. I know it went over the hous e that day.'
So Oswald, ever ready and obliging, helped his brother to move the ladder round to the tiled roof of the stovehouse, and Dicky looked in the gutter. But even he could not pretend the ball was there, because I am certain it never went over at all.
When he came down, Oswald said:
' Sold again!'
And Dicky said:
'Sold yourself! You jolly well thought it was there, and you'd have to pay for it.'
This unjustness was Oswald's reward for his kind helpingness about moving the ladder. So he turned away, just saying carelessly over his retiri ng shoulder:
'I shoul